D:
I found him.
The red-haired man.
I found him sitting in the shade of a large boulder. He was slumped against it, staring out over the ocean with listless fish eyes. His chin was dipped into his chest and his brow cast dark shadows over his eyes. He looked like a spectre in the bright orange light from the setting sun. Everything on the cliffside was either black or the colour of molten iron.
It looked like he had collapsed on the seaside path and dragged himself up against the rock. His form looked frail against the stone, cast in sharp relief by blazing light and dark shadows. His hair was long and red and was matted against his face. He didn't seem to mind it obscured his vision. His features were angular, gaunt and exhausted. I could hear his ragged breathing from where I stood. A portion of his shirt had been burnt away at the center. His chest, over his heart, was charred and blackened - but not by fire. The wound looked angry, violent and immensely painful.
When I first laid eyes on him, I felt nothing. My head was numb and blank. I stood there, stunned, about ten meters away. I didn't move. Neither did he. He didn't even notice me. He showed no reaction to my presence. He was too torn up.
I slowly walk toward him.
Something in my blood burns, but I'm cold.
There's no anger in me. Not fear, not even that sadness which had all but consumed me since the red-haired man broke into the facility and crushed everything I've ever known. He stole everything - both good and bad. That crumpled form on the rock… He's my greatest adversary. He's committed measureless evil against me. The emotions begin to stir.
But not the ones I want. I want anger! I want Rage! Burning, seething righteous anger! No. My spirit betrays me. It shakes. It sobs. It thinks of my slain and mourns them.
I rein in my heart. I put it on ice. I angrily rub my eyes and fight desperately to keep the dreadful loneliness away.
It follows me like a shadow. It looms over me and threatens to eat me alive. I must persevere. How can I persevere? How? Without them? Every day? On and on and on?
Can I handle that? Can I cope alone here, in this cruel, cruel world? How?!
Surely it's better to be a machine. I'll kill my spirit, murder my soul. Walk the earth like a ghost devoid of every emotion. Feeling nothing is better than the horrid burning deep in my heart. The feeling of loss, the sensation of shattered hopes… It's the worse kind of torture.
I'd rather be dead.
What is paradise without those whom I love. This glorious earth is odious, full of filth and wickedness. The expanse of the ocean, the green trees, the fiery sunset - they only mask this hungry, merciless world. It laughs at our suffering. It grins as we weep. I hate it.
The red-haired man. He personifies that merciless god.
I hate him.
The red-haired man is wracked by painful coughing. The guttural noise snaps me out of my thoughts. I watch him as he presses his cheek against the stone and clutches his stomach. He doesn't see me. What is he distracted by? Aren't you afraid?
Has he still not acknowledged me? Me? The one from whom you have thoughtlessly stolen everything from? Me? Whom you've mercilessly killed over and over and over and over again… 16 times. 16 of us. The last of my beloved brothers. Their dying faces are burned into my mind.
I grit my teeth and choke back a sob. Oh, what I'd give to see them once last time. To embrace them and thank them and tell them how much I love them. Ah. I alone will retain their memory.
I'll never forget them.
...
… He'll never forget them either!
I won't let him disregard them! I won't let him disregard 'me'! I meant nothing to him. 'I' was just fodder. A faceless grunt. A lab rat. Mere Clones. No. I don't care. They were more precious than anything. He will understand the pain he wrought upon us. He will know the loss I feel.
I look him over. He's coughing dark viscous blood. It stains the stone. He groans and seems to collapse inward upon himself.
… I've never killed anyone before.
No.
It doesn't matter if I played the medic. Who cares if I'm known for setting bones and soothing wounds. There is nobody left for me to show kindness to, and nobody in this world deserves anything from me. There's no more goodness on the earth. There's no more 'me' left.
All that's left on this rotten planet are rotten people.
This man murdered 'me'.
I will kill him in cold blood.
The wind blew in from the over the sea. The sun shone from across the water. Seagulls cry above. Maybe they're smelling blood. Do the birds eat meat? 15 would probably know.
Hot blood runs down across my knuckles. I have my adversary by the throat. I feel his trachea straining against my palm as he gasps for air. I dig my nails into the back of his neck. He digs his nails into my arm. His teeth are bared and chattering. He hangs from his neck. He wheezes at me.
When I first found him, he looked like he just came back from the dead. Now I'll sending him to Hell again. He stood no chance against me. There was no strength in him. His movements were jerky and electric, they contained echoes of sharp, graceful strikes, but he couldn't sustain them. He could hardly stand, let alone fight.
His fingers leave shallow gouges in my skin. I can feel the sharp edge of an invisible 'something' from beneath his fingers, pressing, then cutting into me. I tighten my grip. He gags and the cutting stops.
The breeze blows over us. The birds screech over our heads. The two of us are silent. I have nothing to say to him. He spends all his effort to breathe. The sun is low in the sky. Molten orange is turning to red. A fitting backdrop. My pulse pounds in my ears.
I can't see his eyes from behind that hateful red hair, but I know he's staring at me from within the deep shadows. What is he staring at? Is he surprised? Did he think he could kill us without any repercussions? We were closer than family. We lived and died for eachother's sakes. We guard our brothers fiercely. Their lives were precious.
How dare you kill them! How dare you give them meaningless deaths! You held their lives in low regard, so surely you can't complain when you die like this. Right?
Right.
Maybe he knew it.
Because he didn't beg for his life. Perhaps he didn't dare to. He knew it was useless.
He kicked and screeched and bit and thrashed, but he never pleaded with me. Not once.
Not when I grabbed him by the head and smashed his temple against the stone. Not when I put him on his knees and wrenched his arm behind his back until something snapped. He howled like a demon. He screamed at me in anger, pain, indignation… he sounded like 'me' during the Facility procedures. His voice was different, but the tone was the same. That keening note of desperation.
I'm all too familiar with the sound. The scientists had conjured the same noise from my throat countless times. My fellows have died with that self-same scream in their lungs.
But… Surely I'm not like the heartless scientists. Right? I'm merely… no. It's not my fault. He's guilty. Guilty! He deserves this! I…
I didn't want to listen to it.
So I stopped him. I seized his neck and squeezed until the scream became a croak. He wasn't like us. He was no person. He was a merciless monster in this merciless world. A red-haired demon dressed like a man. How dare he imitate my beloved brothers?! Is he mocking them? How dare he stir their memory! I'll kill him!
I want to see them again.
I'll kill him!
"Ya-ga-mi!"
A familiar voice carries in the wind, but not in a language I understand. Something stirs in me, but I ignore it. I have more important things to take care of. The red-haired man is facedown at my feet, breathing the dust. I'm about to send him to the bottom of the sea. I'll avenge my brothers. I'm doing my best not to think about them. Will they be glad to know I'm avenging them? Probably not.
"Oy! Where'd you crawl off to, man? Hello!?"
I grab him beneath the arms and drag him toward the edge of the cliff. He's barely conscious but manages to lift his head. I feel him stiffen as he looks down and sees the dizzying height of the cliff. Something in my chest wrenches.
"Come on man! I don't have time for games! get your fat ass out here!"
He just looks at me, a solemn and measured stare. He doesn't say a word. He doesn't look angry. He doesn't look regretful either. He breathes heavily. Blood drips from his nose and down over his lips and chin. I'm beginning to feel sick. I'm shaking.
"Holy Shit! Holy Shit! Yagami what the hell! You! Hey! Stop right there!"
The voice grows closer. It's comfortingly familiar.
I turn my head.
And see the face of my beloved brother.
His face is filled with hate.
sht
