I don't own Pokemon.

Something Better

Prologue

"Father! Father! Look here, it's happening," a young boy shouted throughout the house as he pointed to his prized possession at the time. The child looked to be about 10 years old of Japanese descent wearing spectacles in assistance of his eyesight. He seemed to be fairly ecstatic of his observation; perhaps too ecstatic for a child of his age, but to him, it seemed like something magical was happening. He saw the world changing right before his eyes

"Yes, son, I'm coming. Just give me a minute please?" An older man had responded to the child. The father had long, but neat black hair and hands, his more prominent feature, which were rough, hard hands that showed his work ethic to provide for his family. As soon as he arrived to the scene, the young lad jumped up and down at his entrance and turned back around to observe his sight once again: a small plant in a garden pot full of soil. But the real prize was the silk sac clinging to the stalk of the plant: a cocoon wiggling about, ready to hatch the next stage of a particular insect's life. The father smiled looking at his son's little collection.

"Father, he's about to hatch! Just like you said it would!"

"Yes, I can see it. Are you excited?" the older man asked his son with genuine intrigue.

"Yeah I can't wait! It's just like the creatures you told me about in the legend," the boy said with his eyes glued to the cocoon. The older man came closer and placed a hand on his boy's shoulder as he closely inspected the wiggling sac of silk. His mind then went back to his days of youth. Back to the days when he ventured out into the world where this event happened around every corner.

In the background, the small television set reported a story on the fall of a city by the name of Saigon, but that wasn't important to the child, and it was too upsetting for the father who had had enough conflict in his life. He just wanted to forget the bad and focus on the good.

Back to the cocoon, both saw a crack appear on the upper ridge of the lime-green shell – earning an even more surprised look from the boy. The crack then grew in length several millimeters in both directions before starting to split, revealing a set of compressed, yellow and black wings. Slowly, but surely, the wings began to unfold as a black, furry body escaped its confines of several weeks. It looked… no, it was frail; after all, living in a confined space such as a cocoon would tend to leave any living organism with weak muscles. But with every passing second, the little butterfly regained some of its former strength if not greater strength. Soon, it was standing on all six of its legs on the pod it hatched from gently moving its wings further then closer from and to each other respectively.

The child watched this scene with awe and wonder, not helping to think about the stories his father had told him: the stories with the beasts and creatures with unthinkable power. This little butterfly was almost an exact representation to those creatures, at least in what its fragile life had just accomplished.

"Metamorphosis…" his father had said under his breath, but just loud enough to be heard.

"What is that word mean again father," the boy asked looking up to the older, more experienced man.

The man gave a small, happy smile to his son and explained, "Metamorphosis is a change that happens in an organism's life that make better, or more adaptable to the challenges of life. Think of it as a sort of… evolution, if you will, to become stronger. Oh look!" his father pointed out to his son. Both had now returned their attention to the butterfly that was now at the top of the miniscule plant they had.

The butterfly stood there almost proudly, like it had accomplished a major feat. But it needed something more. It needed more room; it needed more freedom. It needed to fly.

In preparation for this, the beautiful insect began flapping its wings slowly and gently, but with increasing speed at the same time.

"Son," the father spoke noticing this.

"Yes father?" the son replied.

"I think it's trying to fly away now," the father said with a slightly somber tone. The boy's happy and eager attitude then changed to that of small sadness. This butterfly was his friend. It had grown up in his care as a caterpillar, and now it is already time for it to leave. He sighed knowing with prior knowledge that this was the lifestyle of the butterfly and the boy couldn't keep it from that, he knew better.

"I'll miss him," he muttered. His father gave a sad, but knowing, smile to him.

"I know son. Just like I'll miss you one day when you're gone and out to explore what this… new world has to offer," the father reassured the boy. In all of his honesty, he despised the world he lived in now. He wishes he could have gone back to his younger days to avoid all the conflict and wretchedness that now infected the world with anger, hate, and devastation. He didn't want his son to go into a world like this; however, he knew that he had to let go one day, just like his son would have to let go of the butterfly whose wings were flapping faster and faster with each passing moment.

Without any warning, even to the father's surprise, the insect began to hover off of the plant and fly around the room. It explored every part of the kitchen they were in and eventually stopped and landed on the boy's nose, earning a child's laugh from him. He then moved his hand towards his face and tried to persuade the butterfly to take short residence on his palm before they moved outside. It had complied, but turned around and faced the human, looking at him. The child smiled and began walking to his front door with his father shortly behind. He opened the door to reveal a quite sunny day, causing him to shield his eyes with his free hand for a moment of adjustment.

After taking a few steps outside, the boy looked down at his friend, who was still staring back at him, and began to speak.

"Well, friend, I hate to admit it, but… it's time for you go on and live a normal life. I really liked spending these past times with you, and I hope you know that even when you're gone, I'll never forget you." The butterfly just stood there and listened to the young human's words. It then turned around and looked to the outside world: its new home in a few short moments. That was when the boy decided to get closer and whisper something to the bug so his father wouldn't hear. "Don't tell anyone, but I'm going to make a world like my dad's stories one day, and you're going to be one of the first creatures I put in it. How does that sound?" As if answering the question, the butterfly hovered off of the boy's hand and began to circle around his head.

"Hahaha, I thought you'd like it," the child said to it before it started to fly away in its beautiful dance. He then waved to it saying a few parting words, "Goodbye, butterfly! Be free! I'll miss you a lot!" With that, the butterfly flew further and further away. So far that it eventually became out of sight to the boy and his father. The younger human then looked down in sadness, but not without a small smile on his face.

"He'll live a good life, son. I know it," the father said as he came up to his son and placed a hand on his head, ruffling his hair. For as young as he was, he was learning quite fast about responsibility. Something that is becoming rarer and rarer nowadays in all parts of the world. He was proud of his son and wouldn't change anything in his past if he knew he wouldn't end up the same way. He loved his son: his little Satoshi.

Intro

So you wanna know what happened?

Fine, I guess I could tell the lot of you. Though I need to warn you: this isn't much of a fairy tale. It doesn't end in happiness. To be completely honest, it can't be told with happiness for there was solemn a time I had ever felt joy or anything similar since even before I arrived here in this world.

…

I take that back. There were a couple times I felt happy and at peace, but not long after those times did everything go haywire.

…

Why am I so negative? Despair. As I said, the moment I appeared here was the mark of both my rise and downfall. Though people were more knowledgeable of the latter in my case.

…

They're all scum. Granted, if you speak with the right person, I'm sure they could tell you the truth about me. The truth, not their opinion.

…

The truth is that I saved millions of lives, but also killed thousands.

…

Your surprise doesn't shock me. Everyone would rather paint a target on me than find a way to reward me.

…

I find your shock amusing. You have an answer as to why you want to do what you do, but you can't answer me why people have ambition. I'm sure you don't understand, but in time I'm also sure you will.

…

Why, everyone is evil. No good human is ever born perfect in a moral sense. It is the events around them that make them who they are. This guy right here wouldn't be known as the evilest man in history had he been surrounded by other people and events. The same also applies to me in a similar yet different sense.

…

Alright, alright I'll get on with the story. I could say it all started when I was five years old, but I'll save those details for when they come back to me in the story. Now where it really all began was April 28, 2020.

On that day of my rebirth, the United States Department of Defense labeled me as a high-valued target for committing a major felony. It all started when I turned on the news to see how much further into hell we've spiraled ourselves into now. But what I saw caused me to lose my breath for a few seconds. The President's daughter had been slaughtered. Not murdered: slaughtered. I was pretty surprised to see the in depth footage of the crime scene on the national television station. Even with my experience in my current occupation at the time was I still shocked to see blood smeared on the walls and fragments of flesh splattered onto the floor. What almost made it worse is that my former fiancé was there in our new living room to witness the sight with me. I could remember her clinging to me, almost scared for her life of what this country would turn into now. But what happened next was something I couldn't forget in 100 lifetimes.

A picture came up on the TV screen: a possible suspect on whoever did this. At the same time, we heard crashes in every window and door throughout the house as armed National Guardsmen came in aiming their weapons at my forehead. But I was more focused on the television instead. At first, I believed that there was just a glint from the sun just to make my reflection fit perfectly on that spot. But when suspicion had failed me, I realized that there had to be some mistake. It couldn't have been me. I mean, sure I didn't like him or his policies, but I wouldn't go as far as to slaughter his daughter. Yet there I was.

My wife pushed away from me in anger, fear, and confusion. I saw the hurt in her eyes and pleaded her to understand that I had not done it. But I guess that a picture on the media was all the whore needed to stop loving me. And that was when my emotions turned dark, almost invisible, on me. I left them in that rough van-ride all the way to some top secret federal prison. There I was interrogated thoroughly through whatever means necessary so the government could get some damned answers.

For some reason, however, I still felt hope. I just had a few rays to keep me going, to keep me alive so I could prove that this bullshit wasn't my doing. Yet I was failed again. Because of the urgency of my case, my trial had been sped up to an immediate date. Unfortunately for me, 3 days was not enough time for me to even prove my own innocence. On May 6th, 2015, I was pronounced guilty of murder in the first degree and aggravated assault and charged with the death penalty.

That was when I had lost hope, all hope. I gave up, became reserved. Not a single soul heard me speak, not even the prison guards that would escort met to my death bed. It would cost me a couple beatings here and there, but what did that matter? I didn't care anymore. Not even my own fiancé cared for me.

Perhaps you can say that things lightened up a little after my trial. At the same time, you can say things became more tense. During my escorted transport, some jackass decided assassinate the drivers of the convoy and hijack the van I was in. The guards' interests were finally peaked when they felt a shift in the ride. I always knew prison guards were stupid, but to not become suspicious of gunshots outside was completely idiotic.

As soon as they tapped on the metal sheet separating driver from passenger, the window opened and their faces were met with two 9 millimeters each. I simply looked at them indifferently before shaking my head and gazing upon the window. From my vantage point, I could only see a dead body in the passenger seat. I guess it made sense to me at the time that if I so much as took a glance at the new driver, I would be met with the same fate. I at least wanted to see who would kill me so I decided to wait until the driver opened the door so I could look into his eyes and then accept death.

The van finally stopped in an unknown location and I was woken from a sort of in and out slumber. When the back doors had opened, I actually felt genuine relief. I came face to face with my brother, Matthew, in some unknown forest in God knows what state now. After helping me out of the van, he asked me if I was alright. I thought of all the witty and smartass remarks I could say to him so he could feel like a dumbass for asking in my current state. But he saved me so I figured, "eh what the hell, I guess we're even." I told him I was fine and was immediately met with a fist to the face, dazing me for only a moment. But when I regained myself, the next thing I could observe was him pinning my neck to a tree with his hand while the other forced the barrel of a glock between my eyes.

After asking me a few heartfelt times if I really did it, and after me repeatedly saying no, he finally released me, but not before giving me a brotherly hug. I guess I could understand that, after all, I hadn't seen the asshole in about a year or two so it fit for the time.

What were we before? I was a United States Army Ranger. I was a future husband, a future father. I at least had half of a life. My brother was a couple of years older than me and was Green Beret whom I rarely heard about after he was inducted. Our father had been murdered, when I was only 5, in an 'accident' along thousands of other innocent Americans. It was our inspiration and motivation to join the occupation we did. We wanted to avenge his death. Although I had successfully continued to do so ever since I enlisted, I still had a major flaw that may or may not have altered my way of thinking for many situations, but that wasn't important at the time.

What were we then? We were escaped convicts. We were the governments most wanted men in hot pursuit. We had a home, and now it was taken from us. We were on the run to a small town in Northeast Washington State that Matthew said we could trust. I was reluctant, but unfortunately for me, I didn't have the luxury of choice in the situation. So here we are on our way to this forsaken town as the governments most wanted criminals. Wasn't the life of a human just great?

I guess then my outlook on life had been quite bleak; hell it probably still is now. But the thing about this was that it changed my life in so many ways. I was a young man then, and the events in my life you will soon see have altered my perspectives and even my physical self. I had a shit past and a less shitty present, but through all of that I still held on the vigilance to find something better, something newer.

The terrible truth was that what I stepped into on that day dragged me into something darker, much darker, than any of you could hope to imagine.

My name is Michael Blake, and this is my story. The story of how the world can turn a man into a villain.

Chapter 1: I Will Never Leave a Fallen Comrade

The silent, starry night was blissful as I gazed upon lonely moon – one of my only friends. It was something I could relate to; it was something I felt had been with me my entire life. It had been with me for all of my ups and my more prevalent downs. Looking at the moon hold its throne among the countless constellations, I could feel how, although mighty, it didn't belong in their crowd. And to this observation is where I feel the same. I didn't belong. To the question of "where do I belong," I answer with nothing. There is perhaps no place on this great planet that I belong both physically and socially.

For the majority of my life, I had sought to separate myself from the rest of mankind in terms of work ethic. I wanted to outwork my neighbor and my neighbor's neighbor. Why? Because I thought… no, I believed that people only did the bare minimum as an acceptable means to live through life. My father had died at the hands of people who, by only doing the bare minimum, allowed thousands of humans to die from the lack of courage. My father had once told me to always work hard and that one day I will reap what I sow. I took that as his dying wish to me and held on to that mentality for the rest of my adolescence.

Though I had matured, I had yet to drop my innocent belief that everything told to me would work out to near perfection in a systematic order. I believed that the world owed me everything for the things I had done for it – be it voluntarily or involuntary.

I was a damned fool to believe that.

It wasn't until only a couple days ago that I started to reflect on all the times in my life that someone or my lack of better knowledge had screwed me over. None of them are worth that much for me to dwell on, but even a single snowflake may cause an avalanche.

Nonetheless, regardless of what happened in the past, it doesn't change the fact I'm still in my current position. About a week ago, the beginning of December, my brother, Matthew, and I had reached the Eastern limit of Montana, heading west in hopes of making it to Washington by Christmas. We've been traveling for months only resting in the shadows of the day so we can move more freely and quickly at night. Though sometimes we would hit a rut and have to lay low for a while in order to escape the attention of the authorities.

Ever since my escape, however, domestic security had increased severely with myself as their main target. We've had few allies along the way that helped out, but soon were caught after we continued on our way. I still feel guilty looking at the soil in my hand thinking about them. But we had to move on; sympathy won't make us innocent.

"Lovely night isn't it?" My brother asked, breaking me from my thoughts.

"Better than most," I responded, "at least I can finally see the damn sky."

"Light pollution's a beautiful thing," he said.

"Out in the field? I think not. I prefer noise and light discipline. Something you should re-familiarize yourself with 'Green Beret,'" I replied with the slightest of smirks on my face.

My brother sighed, "Look, Michael, if this is about me punching you in the face after so valiantly rescuing you, like I said before: I'm sorry. I just had to make sure…"

"Make sure of what? That I didn't rip her limb from limb?" I scoffed

"Well aren't you blunt about it? Are you proud of your 'actions?'" He taunted, trying my patience.

"Well maybe if they didn't frame me for something I didn't do, I might feel some sympathy for her," I said, slightly peeved. He chuckled.

"I'm sorry little brother, I didn't mean to annoy you. You know I know your innocent. If you weren't, I'd probably sneak into prison just to smack you and then leave."

"Well don't I just feel all giddy inside after hearing that?" I deadpanned.

I looked back up at the night sky to return to my contemplation. Some of these nights I wished I could just join them. Be someone… something people could look up to in amazement and wonder… just like I do.

I never really wanted the lifestyle I had before all of this mess. I wanted to go out and explore, see the world a little. It's a dream I still had, but it's only that. Just a dream. It was something I knew I never could accomplish; especially with the way things are going now.

'Maybe,' I thought as a gazed upon a single star, 'maybe after this is all over… I could start over… be anonymous. I could finish my dream.'

"Come on," Matthew said, "Break time is over. I could see the sun coming up over the ridge," he pointed to what I assumed to be the East and could see a very faint glow coming from beyond the mountains. I sighed in reluctant agreement. Because of what people have done to me, I can no longer enjoy the only thing I ever wanted: peace.

(5 hours later)

We traveled quite far throughout the forested and mountainous terrain until we came upon Dillon, Montana. I actually wasn't too angry about the city as I had for previous ones. The reason behind this was because I had visited Dillon before. It was a distant memory, but definitely there. My father took us on a trip when I was only 3. I came to find out that it was the place of his birth and that we had gone in celebration of his birthday. But that was before his… murder.

I shuttered at the memory and discontinued my thoughts, rather focusing on where we were headed now: a small, abandoned warehouse my brother spotted just after passing the mountain. I found it quite funny that he brought the binos along with him. It just came naturally as something that was quite amusing to me, but I couldn't figure out why. Maybe it was just a funny sight: seeing him spot a building from so far away like he was hunting for game.

Though I had been trained to drive on in extreme weather conditions, I still shivered from the icy, winter breeze. Even with the three shirts and jacket, pants, and a pair off cold weather boots, the effects of December weather still made itself obviously present. What would anyone expect from a guy that lived most of if not all of his life in the dry heat of Arizona. I hated the cold with a passion, yet here I was thrown into northern frost.

Nonetheless, we had finally arrived to our destination with no trouble at all, or so I supposed. I checked my watch to see how long we had to rest before we moved out again at dusk.

0800

Not too bad.

"I'm gonna go out and get some food for the both of us. Want anything specific?" My brother always asked me this question every time day had come around. He always went out incognito to get supplies we would need for the next day or two. I tried going with him once, but he reasoned with me quite well, with the help of his right fist I might add, that my face was more well-known and hated by the American populace. I couldn't disagree; it definitely would be more detrimental should I reveal myself accidentally. I gave a small shake of my head, but then a thought came to me.

"Actually, could you get me another knife? Mine's been wearing out after getting kindling, or 'stabbing trees for practice,' as you liked to call it." My brother shook his head in amusement at his own doings, but nodded towards me in agreement. I gave him a firm handshake for good luck and he was off. I was left alone for about an hour or two to watch myself and stand guard. I only walked around or sat down and meditated in complete silence, listening to the sounds outside for any signs of nearing humans. When I did this, I always felt so peaceful with myself, it was my alternative to looking up at the stars. But sometimes, I would meditate on my past, on my emotions, and focus on them too much. This didn't lead to much, only the falling of my tears. But I didn't focus on them too much this time, just listening for sounds.

First there were the birds. To be exact on what species would be impossible to my knowledge, but their song was beautiful. It made me miss music. I chuckled listening to the grunts of deer passing by; that reminded me of the hunting I used to do. Sooner or later, my mind had drifted away; not sleep, but just mentally elsewhere. I began to see some images flow through my brain: memories of my youth. They looked like pieces to a puzzle I used to know. I stayed in this mental state for an amount of time that only God could have known.

About two hours later, I heard the sound of shoes hitting and sliding ever so slightly on the ground: a jogger? No it couldn't be. Joggers don't really run this fast: this was a sprint. Not only that, but a hasty sprint – not as slow as a run, but not as fast as a workout sprint. The door to the warehouse then flew open and I immediately stood up and moved to a fighting-ready position.

When my brother came through the door, he came panting heavily with a single black bowie knife with him. He threw it to me, catching it somewhat surprised, and he spoke the one word I needed to understand.

Run.

I found myself out of my own control as my body ran outside the back door as if natural instinct that had been practiced fluently. I saw buildings; I saw clouds; I saw the sky; I saw the grass; I saw the mountains; I saw the trees. I glimpsed at everything as my legs swiftly carried me to whatever destination seemed safe enough for me. I don't know where I was going or how much of me it would take to get there, but I knew one thing: I wasn't going to be captured again. I listened to Matthew's footsteps closely behind me. I was glad he was alright, but I dare not look behind me in fear of slowing down. I took a whiff of pine scent as I leaped into the thick tree line. I glanced to my right and noticed a trail used for hiking.

'Fuck that,' I thought. I would rather walk into a mother bear's den than take that obvious escape route. That thought then distracted me as I tripped on a root coming out of the ground. I landed face first at least 15 feet away from that knot if my perception served me correctly. But I immediately bear-crawled myself up into another running position and continued onward with my brother closely behind me.

'God I hope we're alright. Please…'

I prayed to myself as my breathing became heavier. But my eyes widened in hope.

About 50 meters in front of me, in the dark, dense forest I was in, there was a light emitted. I heard the sounds of rushing water getting louder just running towards the light. Perhaps there was a waterfall we could dive in… one we could lose the enemy in. My sprint became faster with every foot that passed.

20 meters. 10 meters. 5 meters.

I slowed my pace exponentially when I entered the clearing with a giant ray of hope emitting from my face… but I could have never been more wrong: not in the past, not anywhere in the future, but now. I looked around in a circle, my smile dissipating, as I looked at the soldiers surrounding my position. There were so many I couldn't take on alone. Maybe my brother could help me and we can both get out of this.

But I heard someone behind me. I turned around to see… not my brother, but someone else. I didn't know who he was, but he sure gave off a deathly vibe by just the way he looked.

The man looked to be in his 50s with the aging features on his slightly tanned face. He had white hair, with traces of black here and there, and had a small stubble growing his cheeks, neck, chin, and upper lip. He wore rounded shades that completely blocked anything from getting a glimpse of his eyes. He wore a black shirt and black pants with black tactical boots. Over all of this, he wore a black trench coat that I could just tell was hiding several weapons that I probably haven't even known yet.

The weirdest feature was his left hand. It was fitted into a metallic gauntlet of some sort.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? The Nation's most wanted man, surrounded by the nation's most powerful soldiers, led by me." He said with a rather raspy, but masculine, voice.

"I guess it took you long enough to finally catch up to me," I said faking a smirk. I didn't want to give him the upper hand by thinking I was afraid.

"I know what you're thinking, Michael, and you aren't clever. I can tell you are scared beyond doubt. It's obvious in the way your nerves… tingle," he said with an evil grin.

"Nerves? HA! What is this? A sci-fi movie?" I asked incredulous at his words.

"Ah, military technology is a fine thing. One day we can create a device that the entire world won't know about for decades, the next day it becomes mass-produced for war-fare. Do you want to see how far our technology has come along?" he asked. What was this guy even talking about?

But before I called his bluff, he seemed to call mine by reaching his gauntlet to point at me and with a simple raising of his wrist, I was lifted into the air. I was beyond words at this point; I was beyond belief. He was lifting me up with this small gadget in the palm of his hand.

"Ahh! Put me down you fucking freak!" I yelled.

"tsk tsk, no need to call each other names," he said, "even when you're outnumbered, and especially when you should be speaking for yourself. After all, that was the only thing your father ever thought of you," he taunted with his grin getting wider.

I felt so much blind fury at this point. He crossed the line by simply mentioning him. If he hadn't dropped me I would have passed out from all the blood and emotion running through the now thick veins in my head. I slowly got up, but not without the help of my fellow brothers in arms bringing me closer to whoever this bastard was until we were face to face.

"What the fuck are you?" I heard myself saying while struggling not to bite his nose off.

"Oh I apologize. With all the excitement in capturing you, I had almost forgotten to properly introduce myself," he said without moving more than a foot away. "My legal name is Anthony. But you won't live long enough to even remember or even care for it. When you get to hell, however, you can tell Lucifer that Morty sent ya to return to your father."

Hearing this caused all colors other than red to retreat from my vision. I gave a large and mucus-filled spit into his eye and chomped as hard as I could on the bridge of his nose, drawing blood. I could tell by the pure shrillness of his screech, I had got him pretty good, but a good bite wasn't enough to satisfy my revenge for his words; I held on with all dear might in hopes to rip off the cartilage.

However, before I almost finished ripping his nose off, I felt a sharp pain enter the right side of my neck, forcing me to let go. I reacted cringing away from the side I felt it on and turned my head in that direction to see one off his grunts holding a fully used syringe in his fingers' grasp.

"OW! You fucking animal!" Morty shouted, gaining my attention once again. He was holding his hand to his nose in attempt to stop the bleeding I had caused. I noticed that when he opened his eyes, he immediately looked around and stopped his gaze to my right: to the man with the syringe. Almost immediately his face of pain and anger turned into one full of excitement and satisfaction.

"What did you do to me?" I asked in haste to get as much information before the drug, whatever it was, had taken effect.

He smiled wide. "That… is a new serum we've brewed with special permission from the President… FUCK OFF!" He shouted to one of his soldiers that tried to fix his nose with a tissue. The soldier put his hands up to signal giving up his action. "Anyways," Morty continued, "According to the research over the past year, it's been proven to be a very effective torturous technique that causes several symptoms that take effect over a short, but not quick enough, amount of time. You just so happen to be the first human trial, so we'll see how it goes from here." He paused for a moment as if allowing me to process what he said. Seeing my face hadn't changed, he simply continued. "In 5 minutes, you begin to feel a sight headache that, after 2 minutes, will grow into a migraine. After 10 minutes of injection, projectile vomiting will ensue causing dehydration. After 15 minutes, the serum attacks the neurons in your brain that interpret your senses. You will be completely disoriented and begin to hallucinate in all the pain and confusion the migraine and vomiting had caused. And if you survive, we might just let you on to a little secret."

"2 minutes have passed, sir," the grunt with the syringe said, looking at his watch. Morty nodded in understanding without averting his gaze from my eyes.

I noticed Matthew walking slowly out of the tree line with no emotion on his face and a knife in his hands. I looked back and attempted to give the slightest of nods, but had apparently made too much movement as Morty's face grew curious. He turned around to see Matthew stopping in his tracks. Though he had lost the element of surprise, I still believed, due to his history and background, that he could kill this bastard and hopefully cure whatever crap they put into me.

"Ah, Killstreak, I was wondering when you would show up. I was beginning to believe you had forgotten where to meet with us at," Morty said in a quite surprisingly friendly tone. But I wasn't too focused on his change of demeanor. No, I was questioning to myself why he had just called my brother by his call sign like they had been best buds for years. Morty then turned around to see my face in an obvious state of shock, to which his smile had widened, yet again.

"Oh wow, I can see the resemblance between you two. It's almost like you were meant to be twins. Though it is a pity that only one of you can be… willing to die for what he loves." At these words, Matthew closed his eyes and looked down. He began walking forward towards my confused face and stopped at about a meter away from me. He opened his eyes just enough to look into mine begging for an explanation to what was going on.

"Matthew?" I asked with a voice full of many emotions.

"4 minutes have passed, sir," the grunt said.

Matthews eyes looked back down while Morty began to speak.

"Oh well isn't this just heartwarming? You see, Michael," he spoke with his tone becoming understanding, "We actually need you to come with us, to see the President, that is. But, you were being so stubborn and impossible to catch. Looking into your past and seeing that you have no wife, children, or parents to care for anymore, we looked at your brother. Now I know that he would be so willing to sacrifice himself for anyone. But, unfortunately, he only has one life. He can't possibly compensate sacrifice for you, and the family he started before you ruined his perfect life. I mean it would just be impossible to save three lives if you were already dead for one of them."

I hadn't averted my eyes, now full of hurt, from Matthew, but I kept listening.

"Wouldn't you think it so brave to sacrifice the safety of your own brother for the safety of the one's you had left home to start a life with? I know I do. And apparently," he said putting a hand around Matthew's left shoulder, "so does he.

"5 minutes have passed sir," the grunt said, but everyone was so caught up in the situation, including myself at the time, that no one had payed any attention.

"Matthew… tell me you didn't set me up," I said with my eyes beginning to water. He didn't respond or even look at me. "Matthew," I said a little louder, "Tell me, you didn't just give your own brother in. Tell me, please tell me, that after everything we've been through, growing up, our service, on the run, that you didn't just throw your own brother away like that!"

I waited in total silence for a couple of minutes before a response came from him.

"…I'm… sorry."

It was almost like time had frozen in place. Everything began to move in slow motion, even the sounds. I stood there, bound by soldiers, with my mouth open in shock to his response. A single tear rolled down my cheek and dripped to the ground. I felt sadness. The only tie I had left in this world was gone. I had no mother or father to go back to anymore, and my brother had betrayed me.

I was truly alone.

But why? Why did he have to do it? In a span of a few seconds, I imagined the several possibilities to why he turned me in. But none of them were good enough for how well we… how well I thought we knew each other. I looked at him under a new, strange light.

Who was this man? The sadness I felt was washed over and replaced with rage, blind fury, that had been building up inside of me since my whore of an ex gave up on me. My hands shook and a few more tears escaped my eyes. I don't think I could have been any more frustrated and hurt than I was now.

"YOU TRAITOR!" I yelled at him. In an act of this fury, I spat into his eyes to which he responded by shutting them tightly like he had been hit with mace.

"AAAAAAGGGGHHHHHH!" he screamed out painfully. I saw Morty look him a mixture of what looked to be surprise and curiosity.

"Sergeant, how much time has passed?" He asked his grunt after shifting his focus back to me.

"It's been 10 minutes since initial injection, sir," the grunt said surprising Morty. The crazed man then looked closer into my eyes trying to look for something, I noticed this, but refused to take my eyes off of Matthew who was still trying to wipe his eyes.

I'm not sure whether it was the injection, or the tears of hurt I from my "brother," but my vision started to blur a little. I tried blinking a few times, but was met without result as it became more and more blurry. Normally, if something was disrupting my eye, it was a physical object, but I couldn't even feel the slight pressure of an eyelash. I tried squinting my eyes a little, but was once again met with no result.

"Where…" I started, but decided to abandon the sentence. I knew Morty would gain advantage if he noticed I was weakened.

"Oh my God…" I heard him whisper in what sounded like fear, but easily mistakable for mystified. At this point, I could only see the shape of his head and green everywhere around him. I closed my eyelids for a couple of seconds only to roll my eyes around. I hoped that this would clear my vision up, but failed when I opened them.

However, I had to do sort of a double take with my eyes. I closed them once more, but kept them there when I noticed something. Instead of the random blackness I saw when normally closing my eyes, the darkness looked to have taken a hue of blue. I focused my "vision" a little further in astonishment; not because of the blue, but because of what was inside. I saw faint lines and glows. The lines looked to be of a lighter blue color, but the glows seemed to be colors of all sorts. I saw mostly green with a couple of red, purple, and black spots. I didn't… I couldn't understand this. They were all so faint, yet they seemed so real. A thought came to me that it might just be an effect of forcing my eyelids shut. To prove this, I opened my eyes again… but something went wrong.

Nothing had changed.

I saw only the same thing. The outlines and the glows, only a little more defined this time. The green glows really seemed to be dots of green moving up and down and appearing to be branching out like trees. The red, purple, and black glows took shapes of… people. Silhouettes. Shadows of different color dispersed throughout whatever field of vision I was seeing. Though I obviously noticed the giant head-shaped glow of crimson right in front of me.

I looked down only to see more blue outlines and colored glows. I caught sight of a new color, however. I noticed a very light, but very blue glow in two spots: right where my feet would be. I decided to test my suspicions and moved my left foot to the left. I gasped as the silhouette moved in accordance to what I felt. But as soon as I gasped, I also felt something…. A crimson hand, grab my chin and force my face upwards to see the crimson face once again.

"What are you feeling?" I heard Morty say. What was I feeling? I'm not too entirely sure at this point. Actually, I take that back. I felt… everything. How? I'm not sure. But for some unknown reason, I could sense everything within the vicinity of the clearing. I could feel, or sense for lack of a more accurate term, the person in front of me, whom I presumed to be Morty. I could sense all of his soldiers, who glowed with some sort of gray color. I could feel Matthew; he was the one glowing in blue, like I was, standing behind a black and purple soldier. I could feel all the weapons and inanimate objects that were outlined in blue. I could feel every cell moving and flowing throughout the green vegetation. I could feel its surface from so far away; I could feel its essence.

Then it hit me. Everything was hitting me at once: my vision and the information it was putting into my head was becoming too much for my human mind to handle. I felt pressure at first, but the snowball rolled further downhill as time progressed. And I couldn't stop it.

Whether I closed or opened my eyes, I still saw the shapes and still felt their presence tingling all of my senses at once. Realizing that there was no way out, I began to yell… no. I'll save my masculinity for another day: I was screaming bloody murder. I couldn't focus on anything; it was all too much.

Morty and Mathew had looks of pure terror on their faces, I could just tell. Though I could feel just a small hint of expectation from Morty as well. Figures, he's the fucker that injected me with this… poison?

So what could I do? I couldn't escape the intake of information, and I couldn't stop the pain. So how? Easy. I could do mankind's only defense when against a threat they know they couldn't handle: I could run.

I began kicking my feet furiously on the ground in attempts to run, but those damned soldiers' grasp was too solid. I needed a foot hold; I needed more power.

And as I asked, so I had received. With as much force as I could, I brought my right arm up to escape at least one of the guards. And to my surprise, I barely felt no more than a 10 lb. plate holding me back, and my hand went with ease to my face almost striking myself. And apparently, through my vision, I watched as he went with my arm, knocking down the gray-glowing man in front of my brother. I could feel everyone, even my brother, staring at me now; I had thrown a possibly 250 lb. man as easy as a large rock. I looked to my hand and felt a slight ease of my pain, and then the thought came to me on how to end this mind-splitting pain. It was so quick, so sudden, but in the high and adrenaline in all that was going on, I've never agreed with myself more than I have now.

Destruction. Time had slowed again as I pondered on this. Destruction could rid me of this nightmare. But why? Why would I kill? Again, easy. Because I was born to. All my life had flashed in my internal thoughts. I was raised to be good, to be the hero; everyone is. But time and time again, I was treated like the villain, and I was expected to be good? Bastards had killed my father, and it was the bastards that I killed. It was the cutthroats that killed my mother, so it was the cutthroats I hated, but couldn't openly kill. But now I'm dead to everyone else – even to my own brother. Who had done that? It couldn't be authority, they only labeled me as the enemy. No, it was humanity. The realization clicked to me. Throughout my life, I had been nothing but garbage that no one wanted. I offered my help; I gave my time; fuck, I almost died for the cause of goodness. But no, they only looked at me in disgust with every hand I gave to help. Everything they believed in, I tried to follow, or at least respect it, but all I received was their hate and backs turned, while they saved their love and gratitude for themselves. In the end it was always about themselves. Everything they did was for themselves, while everything I did was in service. It wasn't a group of people that I hated anymore; it was humanity. All we've ever done is cause pain. The thought enraged me, and my rage greatly reduced the pain I was feeling. So why shouldn't I cause pain? It was simple as dropping a match into a silo of gasoline.

All I had to do was let go.

I turned my head slowly to look at the face of the soldier still grabbing my arm. I could feel the fear emanating from him as my eyes gazed into where his should be; I stared into his soul with the fury in my eyes. In a flash, I drew my fist back and launched a deathly punch into his face, effectively sending him back a few meters.

Then they opened fire. With great surprise, but much grace, I dodged every single bullet I saw coming my way. Though a couple did slip by and graze my side, but nothing too harmful. I felt someone being shot behind; evidently, BCT can't teach anything about marksmanship safety anymore.

"Cease fire! Cease fire!" Morty yelled at them. I looked with focus in my eyes at the blob of crimson that held his metallic hand out towards me. I then looked at the waves of black that shot out towards me, and immediately sidestepped to the right to avoid them. I could feel Morty's anger rise slightly and he swiftly moved his hand to his left so he would catch me in the normally invisible beam.

I was beginning to like the shot that he gave me. I mean without it; I would probably be begging for their mercy. Now, it's almost the other way around as I used its abilities to my advantage.

Let go…

I rolled underneath the beam and forward to gain some distance on them. Another couple of shots fired off, which I dodged again, and Morty yelled at them to stop.

"STOP you fucking imbeciles! We need him alive for the Dr.!"

"Experiment's?" I asked darkly. "I think not!" I immediately leaped forward into a roll that I jumped towards Morty from… only to be frozen in place by his goddamned equipment. I cursed myself mentally, but I refused to let him take me. There had to be a way to escape.

"This was supposed to be torture for you," I heard him panting. I struggled to get out while he spoke. "But now, it appears that we've discovered something that will be… quite useful to us." I tried spitting at him, but couldn't tell where it landed. "Think of it Michael. I know we started out as enemies, but think of the possibilities! With what this serum can do to humans, as you've proven, we can change the world! We can create the perfect super soldier for every national threat! With the fame you'll have in the assistance of its discovery, forget your fucking crimes! You'll be labeled a new man, a world-changing man!"

"I'd rather fuck a dead cactus than take your goddamned offer."

"*sigh* Listen Michael, I would hate to have you give up this offer, but it's your choice. But don't worry; I'll remember your sacrifice in aiding this world's future when I bury you right next to your father's deathbed." he said with very potent venom in his words.

A boiling sensation rose up inside of me. All of the anger I felt towards him spread throughout my body like a snake finding the right hole and stop at the palms of my hands. My face shook with rage as I focused more of my anger in the same spot. After a few seconds had passed, I glanced at my hand to see a blob of blue being held in place. I focused more of whatever anger I had left in that same palm and watched the blob grow larger. Though I kept feeding it, I felt weary just holding onto it so long, but I couldn't exactly throw it at Morty: he had me frozen in place. But the more I waited, the weaker I felt. Eventually, I couldn't hold the orb any longer, and I let it go, but to my surprise, it had not fallen to the ground, it had shot from my hand like a bullet at the crimson silhouette that was Morty. He was sent back several meters and looked to be knocked out cold, and I was released from the gauntlet to land on the ground taking a quick knee before standing once again.

Let go…

I smirked at the rest of the surrounding soldiers that had their weapons raised towards me. I gave a low, dark chuckle, laughing at the situation, and said:

"My turn." The tides turned and I swiftly vented my anger through both of my arms to charge these orbs and shoot them at two soldiers to my right. I sensed trouble coming from all around me and another maelstrom of bullets came in my direction. I moved my body out of the way of open fire and directed my movement towards a soldier counterclockwise of my 'brother.' My intent was to have the rounds misfire and hit him instead, but it seems that these half-brained soldiers seemed to have learned something from the past. They stopped firing.

Oh well, easier for me, right? The soldier I was moving to then dropped his weapon and unsheathed his knife and got into a melee stance. A couple of bullets flew by, but these were bursts meant for ensuring a hit against a small target; they wouldn't chance a casualty of their own again.

I avoided the rounds yet again and lunged towards the soldier; to which he responded with thrusting his blade towards my face. This man had much to learn. I pushed upwards on his arm, causing me to fall to the ground in a rolling motion and stop behind him. There, I immediately jumped up and grasped his head between my arms. Without a second thought, I twisted with as much force as I could might, and ended his life right there.

Observing the tree that he was standing next to, I quickly took his knife, and side-stepped behind it as the soldiers opened fire again. I looked behind me through my 'sight' to see a gray silhouette coming closer. Waiting for the chance to strike, I calmly eased myself and lowered my pulse. When I felt him go just behind the tree, I quickly snatched him and jammed the other soldier's knife deep into his jugular.

I then took this quick opportunity to take account of how many soldiers were left. If facing the tree was my 12, then I had two to my 1, three to my 12, and three, including my brother, to my 10. Although, I did notice a body of crimson lying down, which made me think a bit. I looked back down to the dead soldiers and noticed that their glow had faded and were simply outlines of blue, yet again.

They were dead, and Morty was still alive. I took a deep breath and sprinted around the tree heading to what was my 1 O'clock: two soldiers, both gray. They immediately opened fire, but were two late. I had shot two orbs at both of them, dazing them after firing a couple of missed shots, and, taking the soldier's knife in my left hand and mine in my right, I attempted to stab them both in their hearts.

This had worked on the soldier to my right, but the one to my left was a little more experienced in hand to hand combat. Essentially, the man used the length of his weapon to thrust my left arm upward and its butt to strike my chest. It was an effort worth the try, but my resolve for destruction was greater than his will to think quicker.

Sensing the other's about to open fire, I grabbed him by his hand and swept him around, holding it behind his back, as his allies opened fire on his body.

'Seven to go,' I thought, still using his body to absorb the fire power. I looked under my feet to find this guy's weapon, and there it was. A Black M4 fully loaded and zeroed, but not to perfection. 'What the fuck is the Army teaching nowadays? Are the best guys really that cocky?' I kept thinking to myself. Then again, so was I at the moment.

I shrugged my critiques at the moment and bent down, still holding the lifeless sponge, to grab the rifle by the pistol grip. With a firm hold, I aimed the muzzle to the group of three soldiers, that didn't include my brother, hiding behind trees and fired a round, a test shot – to see my accuracy in my vision without directly aiming down the sights. Squeezing the trigger and holding, I watched as the blue matter fly, with a streak of white tailing it, and hit the tree that the soldier to the right was hiding behind. I could tell, watching the white tail continue through the tree, that if it had gone through, it would have hit his side, possibly rupturing his kidney.

I noted that the white streaks could have possibly been energy; either that or just the action of the round tearing through the wind.

I put the body down, and waited for the golden opportunity to strike. At this point, I didn't care which person I hit or which order I hit them, as long as I was the only one that left this clearing alive. Fuck strategy.

To my right, a gray body peered over a tree to get a good sight on me. Thank God for this strange vision. If I didn't have it, I probably wouldn't be able to surprise him. Immediately, the soldier revealed his rifle and aim towards me. He would have at least taken a successful hit, if I hadn't beat him to the punch.

I mentally praised myself seeing the bullet enter between his eyes.

All I had to do…

As soon as I knew the bullet had hit, I turned to my left and fired two more equally accurate shots at the unlucky bastards that thought they could sneak up on me with a surprise of their own.

'4 left,' I thought. I glanced at all of them: a gray body with a blue one, and another gray body with an unconscious crimson one. A thought came to my head, and I walked backwards, disappearing into the trees.

I wanted to see if I could use this vision to my advantage in stealth. I could easily see through the trees at their bodies full of life, but could they sense me. As I walked around the clearing, concealed in the darkness, I could see the two gray soldiers motioning to each other. They both nodded and faced each other, weapons at the ready.

I loved this old guard trick. Covering two sides at once while also ensuring protection from behind as long as your battle buddy was alert. It was bulletproof… if I was doing it at least. My brother decided to go back to back with one off the soldiers, leaving one side wide open for opportunities of advancement.

Carefully, I crept to that said side, ensuring to keep noise and light discipline, towards the guard that was left alone with my knife in my right hand.

Unfortunately for my sake, the pain in all the regions of my head had returned, making it unable for me to focus completely. I would've screamed; oh how I wanted to just expel the torture, but the satisfaction of killing those responsible for all of my pain was greater than the temptation to cause unnecessary and detrimental attention.

All I had to do…

But throb after throb, the control over my own senses were beginning to dwindle. No, I wasn't losing whatever hell of an 'ability' they gave me; however, rate at which my brain was processing information was waving back and forth. As I stood in the same area, my hearing had deafened to where a major chemical explosion may have barely gotten my attention, and it had become so sensitive, that I recall hearing a pinecone falling 100 feet over in my southwest direction. Colors of all kinds infiltrated my nose to leave an odd combination that I wasn't so sure whether it was pleasant or putrid.

The worst of all of them were the memories. I saw images of them – ghosts – haunting my 'vision' and ultimately confusing me between reality and imagination. I looked upwards to see a jet, a commercial airliner, flying quite low for its standardized flying altitude. I shook in horror as it crashed into a towering skyscraper.

Thousands of innocents just obliterated from existence.

There was someone in the dense forest running towards me, but he was different than everything else I have been seeing. It was not a glow of a solid color; It looked like a person, a male from my perspective, I would've seen if I didn't have this goddamned venom running through my optical senses. When he had reached about 15 meters from me, his features became more distinct.

He was wearing a dark violet collared dress shirt under a dark gray coat and matching slacks complemented by black dress shoes. He ran closer in slow motion, with details becoming finer and finer. He had tanned skin; inherited, not developed, and black hair in a high fade with the top combed to the side. The man was fairly well-built, suggesting a routine gym-workout.

But something about him filled me with terror, His eyes were pitch-black. And if that wasn't enough to give me ongoing night terrors, they were flaring with actual fire. And though he was moving in slow motion, his movements projected him sprinting to me. He was running tome shouting some strange language, an unfamiliar tongue that I was too afraid to analyze its roots; something my late brother had taught me once.

The character continued sprinting and mouthing words until, in the blink of an eye, he stood there, his faced inches from mine that were in between the firmest of grasps by his hands. He breathed in, or more appropriately 'wheezed' in, as if taking in the pleasantry of the woods' air.

"YOUR FAULT!" he yelled at an ear-splitting volume.

… was let go…

I shut my eyes and shook my head violently while also pawing at my face to get away from him. To my surprise, it had worked, though I still was seeing the forest and clearing around me in my vision. My headache felt to have subsided; it was still well there, but less prominent than it was.

I looked at the blobs of color yet again, and aimed to forget what I just saw, but not without muttering a word to remember this by, "Father…"

The fact my position was the same as before let it dawn on me that it was just a quick blackout I just experienced, and nothing more… but it created something in me that I didn't know of just yet. My only proof of this was looking at my body again: instead of an aqua blue, it was now a bright red.

I moved my hands in front of my face and turned them to reassure myself that I wasn't imagining this. But alas, nothing changed, and this nightmare was still going on. Would anything ever go right or at least predictable?

Shaking my head from its thoughts I continued on forward to the isolated man. I guess that I had given away my position as the soldier on the opposite side aimed his weapon towards our position and talked over a small radio.

"Don't move," he said. Though the radio was designed for communication between its users, it apparently didn't hinder my own awareness to the situation thanks to my curse.

I decided to lay a small trap. About 5 yards away, my head peeked out to the side of the soldier, and I taunted the far soldier. 'alright, just aim and shoot, and let energy take care of the rest,' I monologued in my head.

"Like hell I'm gonna fall for that," the far soldier spoke, directed towards me. 'Damn, I thought I had him. Oh well, plan B.'

Taking as little time as possible, I pushed my legs to jump and stab the near soldier's jugular, causing him to convulse and shake slightly. After removing the knife, I kicked him, with all my might, towards the far soldier and my brother. To the surprise of my conscious mind, I had over-powered the force and the body had bulleted towards the two.

The last soldier had barely enough time to duck, leaving my brother to take the force completely. Not letting the silhouette of gray take advantage of time, I sprinted to him and picked him up. I smiled at the thought of ending his life. Thoughts of so many ways to kill him slowly and painfully came to thought, and made my grin widen. I could feel the fear emanating of this man; yet, there was also something else here.

I pushed him towards the nearest tree and pinned his neck to the bark while ensuring he had no suitable way to fight back via weaponry. I looked into his eyes; not where his eyes would be, his eyes. I looked into his soul and stared it down while choking the vital life out of him.

How long we were there wasn't long, his time came quicker than I wanted, but it was the way nature worked. But he left a couple of things for me. The first were a short message that were so full of appreciation for me and regret for his actions, "Go to hell," he said.

The next thing was… indescribable. It was something that the rage of me had blocked my sight of this earlier. The other soldiers I killed, the other's I ended, showed me something that I refused to watch. But my last victim had left me on my knees, haunted by its sight.

Shortly after he uttered his last words, his eyes had closed and the mist of gray that filled his body, that… gave him life, literally lifted from the body and, with the help of a beam of light shooting down from the clouds, floated into the heavens. I looked back at his body, a husk, a shell. It was nothing more than a conduit used by this man's soul.

I shuddered. No, I wretched. At this point, what physical reaction I had was meaningless to the trauma that was inside of my mentality. That… image… disturbed me. I've killed many humans before in the act of war – in defense of my country, so why was I shaking at the sight of this death?

Was it his words?

All I had…

Was it how he passed on?

All I had to do…

Was it the serum?

I looked at my shaking hands; they were stained with blood… I could see it.

…Let go…

This vision, or whatever I have, had not filtered the essence from my sight. If anything, it was amplified. It was the color of gray; it was the color of all the lives I ended. It shined brightly despite the dull nature of its hue. I could see it clearly contrasting my own color with ease. The smell filled my nose; however, it wasn't as intoxicating as before. I no longer felt amusement in the bloodshed of these soldiers; it no longer drove me in pure blood rage and frenzy. At least, not their blood.

It wasn't their fault. They were soldiers; they were humans with lives almost as similar as what I once had. They only followed orders. But that's exactly what will drive this race of organisms down past the gates of hell. They didn't end; they facilitated.

I still hated them, but I couldn't go on with the accusation that they were to blame.

I looked behind me at the still unconscious blob of red with abhorrence.

But he could. This was his fault, this ambush. The fact my brother turned against me. I admit to myself that he was only a pawn in what I was sure was a much bigger plan. Regardless of his respectable power, he must have someone higher up in rank than him to call most of the shots. Someone or some group that sent him to ask me questions in his place.

The least I could do was send a reply to them.

I picked up my knife with a firm grasp and stood up looking at him without a feeling of somberness, discontent, or doubt in the world; my whole existence agreed with what I was about to do. With each step I took, the closer I felt to starting something that would spark and start the gears of mankind in a new direction.

As I stood over his limp body, I felt raw power leaking out of my soul. Even though Morty wasn't conscious to see my work, I could simply sense the difference in position from where we were about 30 minutes ago: I had dominance, and he was hopeless. Nothing could take my focus on my plans for him… except for the feeling of cold steel penetrating my left, lower back.

It stopped. Everything did: my focus, my thoughts, my actions… my sight. Quicker than it had come to me, my altered vision had disappeared, leaving me with my normal color and depth-perceiving vision. I didn't even have to turn around to see who had done it; simple deduction took care of that. I felt a muscle twitch in my legs, before thee went limp, and I gave my weight into Matthew, who had already taken his knife out of my wound

He caught me with the crooks of his elbows under my armpits: deadman carry style. Slowly, he took a knee and supported my weight on it as if a temporary break. He looked at my face.

"Michael," he said with a soft voice, "what have you done?" I could tell in the look of his eyes that he wasn't sad, surprised, understanding, or even regretful; I only saw anger. Not the type of anger towards a significant other being unfaithful, not the anger of betrayal, not the anger of losing a loved one to the bullet of a criminal. This was the anger that paralled that of a father disappointed in the outcome of his son's future.

In the few minutes that followed, no words were spoken from either of us. We were as silent as the trees without wind. I couldn't fathom what his mind was going through. As for me? I was waiting for him to finally get rid of me. I would rather be dead than live in purgatory for the rest of my miserable life. And since he hasn't done anything yet, I might as well convince him to.

"I might be imprisoned again," I started, "But when I escape, and I will, I will hunt you and your pathetic family down and pick them off one by one. And when I have slaughtered your whore of a wife, I will not rest until you are feeling what I have felt for the last several months. Then after you die, I will rip apart limb from limb every person associated with the government I once lived for."

Matthew closed his eyes while a single tear rolled down his cheek.

"I… I can't let you do that Michael. I can't…"

And with that said, he picked me up in a sort of bridal style with the exception of my hands clutching my wound. When he stood up, he looked left and right for any signs of human life that wasn't of military personnel, and after he ensured we were truly alone, albeit an unconscious Morty, he walked off to the sound of rushing water.

What have you done…

As he walked I figured the best thing to do was at least get some answers.

"Why did you do it?" I asked him. While he continued walking, his eyes showed him thinking deeply about my question, almost like he was on auto-pilot. But why would he have to think about an answer? It was a simple explanation was it not?

"You wouldn't understand. You don't have a…"

"I did… I almost had a family," I interrupted with anger. I wasn't going to give him an easy way out of this.

"It wasn't only about that. He promised that if we cooperated, then he would let us live, not only that, but we would begin new lives. We would start over. But you had to go and tear apart everything like a dog with his chew toy. I know you had a family, but that was it: you had one. Mine is still alive, Michael. Yours left you in shatters," he finished with a long pause with the sound of water becoming louder.

"I can't help but agree; you were always dead to me."

I felt him stop and I turned to see in front of him: a waterfall, easily 10 stories high, rushed over a cliff into a pile of large rocks that fed the incoming water into the continuing river.

I returned my look into his eyes and he did the same. The adrenaline of battle had calmed down, but my anger towards him remained the same, and with full intent and knowledge on what I was saying, I said the three words that had never truly meant anything in my life until now.

"I hate you," I said calmly, but with venom dripping out of that sentence.

Matthew closed his eyes and shook his head in disappointment. I could sense the feeling of failure emanating from him.

All I could do…

"I'm sorry, but goodbye br…" He paused to clear his throat and then continued, "Goodbye… Michael."

Without further ado, he simply relaxed his arms and watched as I dropped to the bottom of the falls helplessly. And as I fell, time slowed once again, allowing me to think in my last moments.

… I let go…

'So this is how it ends… My own brother drops me from a cliff to my impending doom.'

I think back to all of the events in my life and watch as they play out in front of me very shortly.

Buildings on fire.

A funeral.

A bloody nose.

A punching bag.

A desk.

The stars.

Wrestling mats.

A uniform.

A girl.

A medal.

Papers.

A cap.

Another uniform.

Another girl.

An airplane.

A tab.

Another airplane.

Desert.

Blood.

A cave.

A vision.

Water.

A call.

Another funeral.

A ring.

The news.

A hammer.

My brother.

The woods.

Blue.

Red.

Water.

As I approached the rocks, I closed my eyes in final acceptance and gave a prayer.

'God, I know I've made irredeemable mistakes moments ago, but I ask that you forgive me by giving me another chance. Please make this my last request,' and I waited.

…

And waited.

…

And… waited?

I opened one eye and, soon after, the other and gasped in astonishment from a sharp point of a rock near inches from my face. I had been so close that if I moved forward just a tad the mineral would poke my eye. I dared to move my head and look up at my feet for any signs of entanglement on something or just plain tension from a possible rope connecting my foot to something….

But there was nothing. I looked all around and noticed that the water was no longer flowing, but was frozen. I took my finger and extended my arm in attempt to inspect the questionably frozen liquid.

But as soon as I felt the liquid, which was surprisingly phantom-like, an enormous roar penetrated the forest as well as my ears. I went to cover my ears with both of my hands to shield myself from the deafening noise. And right when I did so, the water resumed its movement and my head had hit the rock. The last things I remember seeing before I blacked out were the sky, a wave of colors hitting my face, and, in the midst of all this, a pair of irregularly large, blue eyes coming closer to my face as the darkness enveloped me and everything else within it.

What have you done…

a/n

Well there's the first chapter. I've had this story running through my mind for about a year now. I just haven't gotten around to putting it into form up until now. I've not much to say about it really until you guys have read it so I'll keep this note short.

Any questions, comments, and concerns are greatly appreciated from me. Anything that could help me turn this story into something great is welcome as well as compliments or disagreements about my writing style. I know that this chapter is kinda rushed as well as the next one so I'm hoping that as I continue, the flow of my ideas can ease out and everything can become smooth.

Chapter 2: Familiar