Colin had been staring at the blank television screen for almost an hour in shock. He didn't know that THAT was possible. It was... utterly fascinating.

He was watching TV mindlessly, like he had many times before, and came across a movie. Everything seemed so innocuous at first, just a band of people getting called by a mysterious and wealthy individual to a giant mansion. Nothing much piqued Colin's interest, but it was sensory input at least. Until, about 30 minutes in, something bad happened.

The characters began to die in cruel and increasingly complicated ways. Colin was utterly shocked by what was happening in front of his very own eyes. The way their life drained out of them, the way the blood pooled everywhere, the way the just... stopped moving and the world continued even as someone had been taken out of it was... amazing. That was the word for it. Amazing. Exciting. Terrific. Colin had never seen violence before, he'd never seen murder before. Logically, a part of him knew that things came to an end at some point. He recalled the time he'd found a dead flower, and he didn't even need the old woman to explain to him what had happened. He'd always knew, but this was different. Something about it made his brain click. Like a light had gone off.

"What if I could do that too?"

Death was not something that only came by the flow of nature. It could be controlled by another. He liked that thought. He liked the thought that he could change something permanently and it would never go back to how it was before. It didn't even seem all that weighty to him. It wasn't a monstrous thing, murder and violence; it was just... something completely different to everything he knew.

He didn't understand why he wanted so badly to try it out. Why the idea of a change was so enticing. One could attribute it to faulty or unfinished programming, but he didn't know he was a robot, and he didn't seem to realize that murder was, well... wrong. Immoral. To himself, he was just an object with a desire. Did he even have morals? Did he even know they existed?

No.

Did that make him at fault? He didn't ponder the question, as it never crossed his mind. How could he consider the ramifications of his next few actions if he was not even aware that there was a ruleset to break. One could say there was fault in that, but even if they did, he would not care.

Colin finally stood up in a daze. Everything was clicking together in a way an outsider could never quite process. Even though the rest of the movie was already slipping away into the recycling bin, in a way he knew from experience he could never get it back, the murders still hung heavy and loud in his mind. He blinked woozily and slowly turned his head to the kitchen. One of the deaths, the one that had the least amount of screen time, was a stabbing. Such an action could be done with something sharp, and the kitchen was a room that consistently held the sharpest objects in the house. Ah, yes. It was all coming together.

Colin walked into the kitchen and fumbled with the drawers. No matter how hard he tried, he never seemed to remember what went where. Only some of it ever stuck around, but what did, he remembered perfectly, like a picture taken and stored in his mind. Finally, he located the knife drawer and picked out the biggest, sharpest one he saw. As he turned it around in his gloved hand, he felt a rush of excitement. The logistics of it was still odd to him. He had forgotten one crucial detail: who was to be his enemy?

Yes, his enemy.

There were others around him, correct? He couldn't simply attack himself, that didn't make any sense. There were the neighbors, but it took hours to reach them. He didn't want this rushing, pulsating, beautiful sensation to fade. There really was only one option.

Colin sprinted towards the old woman's room and threw the door open in a frenzy. His footsteps were so heavy that they'd left dents in the floor, and his glowing, red eyes were shooting around the room wildly. She grunted, rubbed her eyes, and said, "Mmm- yes, dear? Is something wrong?"

Colin felt like he was on autopilot. He watched himself walk forward, but he couldn't hear his own footsteps. She was saying something, but there was no noise. The rustle of blankets was not heard, but felt on his own skin. He wasn't moving with the normal irregularities or tremors; it was cold, methodical and efficient. As he rushed toward the lady in a flurry of artificial adrenaline, he somehow felt completely out of control, and yet felt completely natural. There was someone controlling his body, but he liked the decisions they were making. He felt something burning and thick splatter all over his face and shirt. The knife was digging into the flesh so easily, like running a hand through a stream of water. There was no resistance, at least, not any that lasted long. Not from her, not from him... He hurtled the knife towards her over and over and over and-

Colin finally stopped. He looked down at his work and felt an uncontrollable tremble in his body. Strange, she didn't really look humanoid anymore. Was it even the same person, he wondered. Was it. He dropped the knife and and breathed in shallow gasps, even though he didn't REALLY need to. His lungs (were they even real) felt tight, like his chest was being crushed by a bowling ball. He felt a liquid that wasn't blood or ink run down his face. It was too cold and thin to be either. The corners of his mouth felt strained, for some reason. Perhaps he was just tired, he thought.

The room was a mess. When he opened his mouth to speak, his voice did not accurately reflect the state he was in, not in the slightest.

"Oh wow!" his voice imitated a chipperness, but it was still just an imitation. Something lay underneath it that he'd really rather quash.

"Th- That was exhilarating!" Yeah, lets pretend that's the word for it. "Hmm. But now I don't have anywhere to live. I can't stay here after all." Who was he talking to? Why couldn't he stay here? Well, logically it was because he - -

He just couldn't stay here.

Colin pondered for a moment and drifted about the room. The carpet was already beginning to smell, not that he had a very good sense of smell anyways. He eventually reached the old woman's desk. There was a large, beautiful map from ages ago, detailing so many things in all its glory. His eyes scanned it and locked on to one island in particular.

"Britain? Hmm. That sounds fun." He was unsure if he knew what fun was. He knew the definition at least. "I want to go there. But how would I-"

As if to answer his question before he even finished it, a loud boat horn blared in the distance. When had he regained his hearing. The port wasn't all too far away. About as far as everything else was at least. He could just hitch a ride there.

For a moment, he thought about how poor a decision it was to live all alone, so far away from everyone else. He would rectify that.

Colin stumbled back into the kitchen and opened the fridge, looking for food to bring along the way. His head twinged a bit in pain. Of course, every time he tried to eat something, he'd always spew it back up (must be an object thing.) But he knew he HAD to eat; she had said so herself. He grabbed a bag of tiny oranges and traipsed out the door to the port. He'd be somewhere new and exciting soon.

It'd be... so much fun!

So much...

Fun...