Destry stood alone in the perpetual drizzle, staring wordlessly at the graves of the two people he had loved so dearly, the ones who made his existence worth the pain he had to trudge through, the only reasons he had elected to remain in this disgusting world. The ground had been turned two days after their deaths, and three days had passed since then, yet in this short amount of time he had completely locked their existences as skeletons in his mental closet; something in him had broken and twisted immensely. His eyes burned with passive rage, but he was able to contain his rage contently within a shell of the person he had once been. He had gone back to school and wandered down the halls that used to invite him into a realm of happiness; they now filled him with regret and depression. The Professor had fled back to his nasty hive, back to the killers and monsters of men that ran the mind games, and his old class sat in silent shock when they heard about Axie and Anja. For Destry, apocalypse was now. Nobody spoke to him anymore, fearing he would still be unstable and would lash out at the drop of a pin. In a way, they were right.
He found the paper that read 'Genocide Genetics' soon after his return to school. The name left a terrible taste in his mouth, but he refused to let it hinder his research. Upon collecting data, he found numerous accounts of lawsuits and personal attacks, including a bombing of their main building in Portland, Oregon, but everything was unsuccessful. The company was literally untouchable. He sat with a resolve in his heart and let his emotions drive him mad for a final, sane night.
"Have I ever told you the real reason I joined this fucked-up company?" Steven looked over to Jason Dent, clearly surprised by his question. The two had met outside the debriefing room Jason had stepped out of only moments before, having recently returned from his completed assignment. "No, you only told me you had needed some sort of crutch to help you along. Why does this matter, anyways?" The Professor smiled grimly, a faraway look in his eyes giving no indication as to what his true emotions were. "Do you even know what happened on the assignment?" "I read the report, Jason. Two dead." A single tear threatened to escape the Professor's eyes when Steven said this. "Not just 'two dead', two people no longer exist in this world. I would say they're in a better place, but Hell would be a welcome gift from the pain I put them through." He sighed and let his weary head hang a little. "Five years ago. Right before I met you and we joined. I had a family, the typical 'wife and two kids' setup. She and I married right out of college, moved to a nice place in Washington, and prepared for a normal, mundane life. She was happy, I was happy, the kids were young and fun, and the world was on our side." Steven suddenly became uneasy. "You never mentioned a wife..." Jason looked up long enough to catch his eye, then looked back down. "It was a nice day in the fall. The air was chilled, the grass crunchy, the wind light, the sun tolerable. God was in his heaven, and all was right with the world. I was on my way back from my internship at a university, eager to hug my son and daughter. Eager to kiss my wife. Eager to live life over and over again as I watched them smile and laugh. I pulled into my driveway, opened the front door, and was welcomed to a meat shop." Steven's face paled, but the Professor refused to let up, even for a single second. "My quaint little world lay scattered and splattered about the room in various shades of sick crimson. The love of my life reeked of rot. In the kitchen sink..." Steven vomited before Jason could finish. "Oh god, I don't... I mean I just..." He was sobbing, but the Professor grew darker. "Just like that, everything I knew and loved was shredded apart like a tree into mulch. My wails and cries have haunted the area for years, sending chills down the spines of anyone unlucky enough to encounter their ghastly memories. Take one wild guess as to those responsible." The realization showed on the Doctor's face, and then the guilt. "Why are you working for the fuckers, then? Why not go for vengeance?" The Professor smiled. "I am. One step at a time, Doctor. One fucking step at a time."
The car door shut, leaving the man in the drizzle outside. The enormous tower stood dauntingly before him, mocking his utter humanity and forcing him to bow down. He stepped through the sliding doors in the front of the building and skirted around the monument and fountain in the large marble lobby. A desk sat at the back with a single secretary manning it, absently working on paperwork. He adjusted his black tie over his blood-red shirt, his suit creating satisfying creases, and he walked up to the desk. There was no line, no other human being besides himself and the secretary on the lobby floor, and while this was unsettling he didn't let it deter him from his goal. Without looking up, she handed him a small card that only read 'CODE' across the top, in bold print. He produced a pen and wrote 'DGV3-DC17-61A' neatly down the middle. He handed it back to the woman and she swapped it with a small vial, complete with a blunted needlepoint at the top on a rubber stopper. Knowing what to do, he pricked his thumb and and let his life flow until it filled the vial. After returning the vial to the secretary and after she plugged it into a small belt, exposed by a panel, that ran underground, she finally looked up at him. The 'man' was barely a boy. She frowned, a tinge of sadness creeping into her gaze. She shook her head and said continued, asking his name and entering it into a computer attached to a large ID printer. An ID was spat out and was handed to the boy, who promptly attached it to his fitted suit. She shook his hand and said, "Welcome to the Company." He smiled a dark smile, his eyes ripe with hate, and said, "Thank you." He stepped back and headed for the elevator. The secretary caught one last glimpse of the nametag before the boy was eaten by the elevator and absorbed into Genocide Genetics. "Destry Clampes..." She sighed, sadly, and returned to her work, another day simply passing by.
End.
-afterword-
I took a year to produce this story, with little but satisfaction to show for it. I've been inspired by a number of events that have happened to me or those whom I have had the pleasure of knowing for this past year, and my twisted end result of compiling the mess is this: Slender. I am done writing this as a 'fanfiction' and am in the process of making it into a book, with revised ideas, re-writes, and of course additional content. I want to give a shout-out to my friends who've helped me finish this project, even when it was going nowhere. I also want to thank the tons of people (in my eyes) who have wasted their time on my story to boost my confidence in writing. Last of all, I want to say that this is dedicated to the memory of Matthew Nestle.
Rest in peace, brother.
~Hisoka2012~