This is who you are. It was such an annoying message…Luther could hardly read it, written in those sparkling alien letters.
Luther cursed the Romulans, Luther cursed his life, that life that had only been projected into him. Luther cursed Koval.
Disoriented, Luther's eyes swept around the room without focusing on anything. There were only colors and shapes. The silhouette of the tank and the man that was like him. Another Luther Sloan. Another thrall waiting to dance to his master's tunes. Luther swore again.
His blood was already soaking his gown. His life was slipping away. He was going to wake up. Whatever reality that came next, even the lack of it, would be better.
This is who you are.
He hated that sentence as much as Koval. Blindly, he searched for the padd with his hand; after some effort, he finally caught it. With rage, he tried to destroy it, punching it against the floor. However, his strength was leaving him. He hated the device that had showed him how miserable he really was and the unknown person who had showed it to him.
For a purpose.
A purpose that probably did not include killing himself.
A purpose like killing Koval.
Now that he thought of it, it sounded much better. Luther struggled to concentrate. He had been acting irrationally. Again, he was being a fool. With the strength he had left, he tore a part of his gown and rapidly bandaged his wounded wrist. Luther tried to get his sharp ruthless mind to work again. Now he knew who he was, a clone of a bioengineered man designed to work as an automaton by a maniac man. A clone that was now free. A clone that could now live his own life.
The first step once freedom was obtained was not suicide, the first step was revenge.
Luther took the mistreated padd and this time relished it. Another person had played with him, that was true, but this new person was actually helping him, even if that maybe wasn't his intention.
With effort, Luther stood up. He was sick and had to lean on the wall to avoid falling to the floor again. He took some tentative short steps.
He was Luther Sloan. He was Koval's master piece. He was supposedly his closest collaborator. He had access to him. Koval would never suspect of him. And he was a very well trained killer, even if, he realized, his hand had never raised a weapon except for the scalpel, and all he was existed only in his mind.
Luther went for the transparent door that had gotten him in. It was shut again. He pressed the padd's go forward button several times, as he commanded the device, "I want to get out, get me out, now!" And to his relief, after a few attempts, the smart padd read, "Get out", and as he agreed, the door opened. Koval's codes were heard again and he felt the transport beam taking him away.
Now he was once more in the familiar medical facility. His self-made bandage already soaked by his blood, he went to cure himself. He was feeling too weak to do anything than rest, but he needed to heal the wound, and a transfusion. His gaze turned warily towards the exit door, wondering if someone could come in and startle him, wondering if the owner of the padd would now appear with some other evil revelation. But his vision blurred again, and he stumbled against the gurney; unconsciousness menaced to take him. Luther did not really had a choice. He ordered the room to be sealed under his authority. In theory, his codes could not be overruled by anyone in the facility; however, he knew better now. He just hoped it was enough, and slumped on the gurney.